dear_mun | Homeless and cautiously pessimistic

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canon: good omens

Homeless and cautiously pessimistic

So you think you we're going to fake it until we make it? Don't get me wrong, we could do that. It is a distinct possibility. As it happens I'm keen to play an older and more personally rewarding game.

[Crowley is perfectly happy to leave it at that. We're all busy people with lunches to do, walks to take, people to...no?]

What? Oh. Well if you must know it's called "ignore you and hope my problems go away."

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See, that's an interesting premise. The 'ignoring you and hoping you go away' gambit, I mean. Has never, not once, in the history of the planet been known to work, but you know.

Cool idea.

That is an interesting and unsubstantiated claim to make, young man. My strategy has, in fact, been known to work exceedingly well*. Your inability to leave well enough alone doesn't mean the rest of us can't practice a long and healthy healthy game of keeping our head(s**) down.

You may think I'm on the defensive, but I'm not in the business of caring about other people's lack of faith. Believe it or not, I have no intention of doing anything but lunch. I've done it before, I can do it again. I am very very good at apathy.

[*he has not crunched the numbers here to avoid any distressing percentages or devils in the finer details **Crowley rolls his neck in a way that suggests it remembers those days]

Young man? What are you, like, twenty-five? Seriously? Dude, I was dominating MIT when you were in your diapers, you're not gonna get away with out-ageing me. But, seriously, that's adorable, the suit and everything, very hipster-granddad. I know a guy who'd probably love you.

I mean, you're just as touchy as he is, you'd get on like a house on fire.

Nn-woah. Stop.

[Crowley has long ago mastered the concept of personal space. Years have gone into its casual disregard and he slinks closer to put an accusing finger up at Newt's face.]

Shh. Three rules. No "I know a guy," no "dominating," and no games of silly buggers. And fire is just out. It was a bad idea from the start if you ask me

If you're so confident in your maturity, please, explain to me how someone like me could possibly be hipster. Enlighten me like the child you assume I am. Keep in mind that I am as close to the genuine article as someone of your background should get. Given that fact, I hope you're not accusing me of lacking authenticity.

[it takes effort, but his selfsmug contempt manages to express itself via a complex series of eyebrow waggles and a sort of belly dance of the upper forehead]

[Okay, no with the getting-up-into-space. That's kind of Newt's thing? Yeah. That's really Newt's thing. He's just gonna step back and act like this is a joke, yeah, you're real funny dude.]

Ha, okay, sure. That's great. I'm in a hipster pissing contest with a guy who thinks sunglasses indoors and a skinny tie are like, the height of fashion. That's hilarious, dude. No, seriously. You're hilarious.

[Complete lack of awareness of the irony of the remarks considering his own state.]

Just for the record? I don't do rules. And I really don't do wannabe-hipster-I-think-throwing-around-phrases-like-silly-buggers-makes-me-very-posh-and-superior rules. [He'd put on a stuffy, terrible English accent with that bit, like he was imitating someone in particular.] So you know, I don't know, maybe try harder?

[Crowley gives him a pointed once over.]

No.

[If you say anything with the right sort of conviction it will come out sounding powerful. It helps if you're a metaphysical being temporarily housed in a cage of meat and bone. Crowley smirks.] It's you who needs to try harder.

I've just had a thought. It doesn't help this contest, I think, that neither of us is pissed. If we're to go at it, let's at least go at it properly.

[Very fair points except most of that goes over Newt's self-absorbed little head.]

Okay, dude? Overly-gelled-hair-guy? Whatever you - whatever, I don't care what you want me to call you. I? Am not trying. You are trying. Like, seriously trying, actually. [He shakes his head.]

So, I can like, have 'a go' of it, in whatever subject you want, actually, because yes, Doctor here, and I am actually that good.

But.

You're buying.

The first round? [If questioned, Crowley would describe himself as adept and adaptable, with a suave and seductive overtones. He would also call his current expression elegant and enquiring rather than lopsided and bordering on silly] Of course, it was my suggestion. And my choice of venue, Doctor. [If it's occurred to him that Newt has a name, he doesn't show it.] Unless you would feel more confident on familiar ground.

Dude, as long as you keep buying, we can go sit our fat sexy asses on the edge of the Breach for all I care.

[And because he really has not an atom of self-awareness, he follows that easily with:]

And don't call me Doctor, only my mum does that. Call me Newt.

[He proffers a hand to go along with it.]

[Crowley extends his hand, finds his cufflink in want of adjustment and gestures casually behind Newt.] After you. Somewhere with a decent wine list. [It's a commonly held misconception that the hand is faster than the eye. Crowley, along with most entities critical of the the slight-of-hand genre, firmly believed that the eye was quicker than the hand and just needed to be focused elsewhere. He pulls a slender phone from his jacket pocket. It's almost as though he'd bothered to take Newt's hand.]

You don't mind if I just check my messages, Doctor.

Well I mean it's not like courtesy is like, your watchword is it?

[He's so unimpressed, and once it's clear Crowley isn't going to actually, you know, shake his hand, he drops it and wipes it on his shirt in annoyance. Annoyance is quickly overcome by interest however.]

Hey, cool tech. Who are you with? [Just gonna see if he can get a look at it.] What games do you have? Dude, check my high scores, I bet you can't beat them. [He pulls his own phone out, ready for another nerd dick-measuring contest.]

It's for work. [Which isn't to say he doesn't have games, just that said games fall under the large, comfortable umbrella of "work"] I'm more on the research and development side of things. Candrycrush, animated superheroes you pay real money for, that sort of thing.[snapchat isn't one of his, but he has it open and just as quickly closes it and pockets the phone]

But you're not interested in that. [The pub is small and pretentious, the sort of place with a very nice winelist and microbrews from the landlord's son's converted loft in SoHo.]You and me, we've got a score to settle.

Not interested in that? Of course I'm interested in that! That's the coolest - okay, you are now one of the coolest guys I know, you know, aside from me.

So what's are you working on? What's the latest cool game and also, I presume you're totally going to give me first dibs, right? I mean, [and he puffs up and slicks his hair] I am saving the world.

"Urgh. An idealist." [Crowley groans melodramatically, as if he isn't just as bad. What's a bit of hypocrisy between drinking buddies? He orders with a nod and a whisper, not giving his partner the opportunity.] Save that for after, cheers.

[After a few sips and a blatant disregard to Newton's questioning, a thought strikes.] If one of use were to lose consciousness, do they forfeit?

Forfeit what?

[Newt's trying to work out if he considers himself an idealist or not. After all, he is saving the world, it's like, practical. On the other had he doesn't really have any expectations of failing, at this point. Also, this wine? Really good.]

Wait, unconsciousness?

[Frowning.]

Are we gonna fight after all? Because, if it's all the same to you dude, I'd rather you just keep buying me awesome drinks.

I intend to. We'd have to have more than this. [Crowley isn't even slightly tipsy yet, but he tips his glass with a hazy confusion and an increasing incomprehension. It hasn't been that long since he mingled.] For the pissing contest. Ah. Right. I see. [Maybe it's the man's accent. That's probably it. Newt's probably misusing the term.] You're American.

[Newt flaps his hand through the air to wave the assertion away.] And you're from the U of K right? Which is sooooo special.

Like, are you going to explain shillings to me my good man, or chocolate oranges, hem hem yes very obscure very fancy.

[He doesn't have an issue with the pissing contest as it stands. It's a great way to get free drinks, and he can definitely hold his liquor better than this guy. He thinks.]

If you happen to be around, I also happen to be around. It's been a while.
-A

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Homeless and cautiously pessimistic

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